


Making a Mess

by Pikdame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drinking Games, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Library, Humor, Library Sex, Romance, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikdame/pseuds/Pikdame
Summary: As their last year draws to an end, the students of Hogwarts participate in the usual end-of-school party that involves drinking, games and reminiscing. This year however, Ginny Weasley intends to give the word senior prank a new meaning and instigates an intricate plan to spread utter chaos all through the castle. It just so happens that Harry and Hermione end up partners in crime yet again...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Making a Mess

“You agreed,” Ginny taunted.

“Not to _this_ ,” Hermione hissed back.

“Just pick one, don’t be a spoilsport,” Ginny whispered. Hermione felt heat creep into her cheeks as she plunged her hand into the bowl to grab a slip of paper.

“I hate you,” She said. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“It’s not so bad,” Ginny said.

“You don’t know that,” Hermione muttered, holding the paper tight in her fist.

“All right,” Ginny said, grinning smugly as she looked at the others. “Gentlemen, please find your ladies.” Hermione watched everyone pair off and slip away, with giggles and murmurs. She pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to everything that was holy that her name had somehow gotten lost in the bowl.

“I’m not so bad, you know,” whispered a voice that made her jump.

“Harry!” She exclaimed. He gave her a mirthful quirk of his eyebrows and she wondered how many drinks he might have had over the course of the evening.

“Drew you,” He said, holding up a piece of paper with her name scrawled on it.

“You?” She asked. He nodded.

“We better go,” He said. She flushed with embarrassment. Having to spend the remainder of the night with Harry sure was better than the other possibilities, but it didn’t make up for the fact that she bitterly regretted partaking in this _game night_. It had sounded fun and they were young and what the hell – and at first it had been fine; a little embarrassing, sure, when people aired a lot of dirty laundry in front of half their peers, but nothing too mortifying. Until Ginny had whipped out the ‘grand finale’ that consisted of pairing people up and sending them to a different spot in the castle with a task to complete. “Where are we going?” Harry asked. She opened her hand and unfolded the piece of parchment.

“The library,” She said with trepidation.

“Not like we haven’t broken in there before,” Harry said, chuckling.

“If it’s anything about defiling books, I’m not doing it,” Hermione huffed.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Harry said, pointing the way.

“It’ll be fine?” Hermione muttered as they reached the corridor outside. “We’re talking about Ginny – she is second only to Fred and George.”

“True,” Harry admitted, hands in his pockets as he fell into step next to her. “Oh, come on, Hermione, you had fun tonight.”

“Well, yes,” Hermione admitted. “I mean, not all the time.”

“Agreed, did not need to see Seamus strip,” Harry said.

“There was also a lot of stuff I _heard_ that I didn’t want to hear,” Hermione mumbled, thinking about Ron and Lavender’s candid details about their physical relationship – long over as it was.

“Right,” Harry said. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” She muttered, waving it off.

“Does i – oh… shit!”

“Harry!” She muttered, glaring up at him, but he’d obviously sensed something that had passed over her head, because he’d whipped his hands out of his pockets, slipped an arm around her and dragged her from the corridor into the nook behind a stone statue.

“Filch,” He whispered into her hair as they squashed into the corner. Coldness rapidly spread across the backs of her legs then seeped through the back of her thin blouse and skirt. She clamped her mouth shut but couldn’t refrain from moving her legs away from the wall, against Harry’s. He doubled over, pressing her harder into the wall. Only when she felt the vibrations of a pained moan against her shoulder, did she realize she had knocked him in the privates and he was groaning in pain.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, then held her breath. Filch slouched past, muttering about seventh years’ pranks and catching everyone and hanging people up by the thumbs. Half a minute passed then a door slammed in the distance and Harry pulled away from her, groaning loudly as his hands cupped the front of his trousers. “I’m so sorry, Harry,” She said worriedly as he dropped against the wall, his chest heaving quickly. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I sure hope not,” Harry squawked.

“It was reflex,” She said.

“Your reflex is to knee blokes in the balls?” He leaned his head back against the cold stone, his face red and sweaty.

“The stones were so cold against my legs, I just…” She grabbed his arm. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I figure you broke it…” He warned, with the hint of a grin.

“You prat,” She muttered.

“Merlin, that hurt,” He groaned, wiping the back of his hand over his forehead.

“Let’s just go back,” Hermione said. “This stupid game isn’t worth it.”

“No,” Harry said. “We’re almost there – we’re not chickening out.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. She wasn’t certain he could actually properly walk – he looked a bit sick, in fact.

“Yeah,” He muttered and they clambered out behind the statue. “Just promise you won’t ever do this again.”

“I promise,” She said right away. “Harry… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” He said. “I just hope everything’s still attached right.”

“Harry!” She chastised. He gave her a weak grin. They made it to the library without any further complications and found a red note on Madame Pince’s counter.

“How?” Harry asked as he picked it up.

“I told you,” Hermione said. “Second only to Fred and George. What does it say?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Harry said.

“Harry.”

“She wants us to ‘make a mess’,” Harry said.

“What does that mean?” Hermione asked. He shrugged. “This is just great.”

“Look,” Harry said. “We don’t have to do this.”

“What?”

“Just forget about it.”

“I thought you said we can’t chicken out,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, well,” Harry said. “This is about the library. This place is… holy to you.”

“I would have thought your balls would be holy to you,” Hermione said.

“I’ve grown attached,” Harry said, nodding. She snorted.

“Well, my turn to take one for the team,” She said. “So… let’s… you know, make a mess. Whatever that even means.” She looked around the pristine library, wondering what Ginny had cooked up for them to do.

“Good thing I brought these,” Harry said, pulling two bottles from the pockets of his robes.

“You brought butterbeer into the library?” Hermione asked. “That alone should count as making a mess.”

“Imagine Pince’s face,” Harry said, uncorking both bottles and handing her one. “If we spilled some of this on a random book.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Hermione muttered.

“Well, we’ve got all night to figure this out,” Harry said, tossing the red note on the next table. “Let’s sit and talk for a minute.”

“Talk?” Hermione asked as they both slid onto the seats they usually occupied. “About what?”

“I saw your face when Ron walked off with Luna,” Harry said.

“What do you mean,” Hermione muttered.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Harry asked.

“Hardly,” Hermione said, glowering at the mouth of her bottle.

“Then what is it?” Harry asked.

“It took Ron and I seven years to get anywhere,” She said. “And we make it a total of four weeks before we combust without even having proper sex – and along comes Luna Lovegood and I will bet you anything, they are gearing up for round two as we speak.”

Harry choked on his butterbeer. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and – feeling the prickling of it still in his nose, he managed,

“What did you just say?”

“You heard,” Hermione muttered, taking a sip of her beer.

“You never…” Harry wiped another trickle from his nose. “But Ron said…”

“Of course he did,” Hermione muttered, shaking her head. “Well, if that’s what he thinks, I don’t envy Luna at all.” Harry stared at her. He’d never heard her talk like that – but then, she’d barely ever had more than a couple of butterbeers in one sitting, not to his knowledge, anyway. “How do you feel about Ginny taking off with Terry Boot?” Harry pulled up a shoulder.

“I don’t really care,” He said vaguely.

“Really?”

“Really,” Harry said.

“Look at us,” Hermione said. “It’s pathetic.”

“It could be worse,” Harry said. “You could be sitting here with Ernie MacMillan. He wouldn’t have brought you butterbeer.”

“But kneeing Ernie would have been fun,” Hermione said.

“After you two got so chummy earlier?” Harry asked, giving her a mischievous grin.

“We didn’t get _chummy_ , it was one kiss within the confines of a game, Harry.”

“Uh-huh,” Harry said. “He seemed mighty disappointed you weren’t up for more.”

“Ugh.”

“Why _weren’t_ you up for more?”

“Because it’s _Ernie_!” Hermione said. “He’s pompous and arrogant and…” She just shook her head.

“He’s not so bad.”

“I’m not looking for ‘not so bad’,” Hermione said. “Who looks for ‘not so bad’?”

“Not so bad’s still better than nothing at all,” Harry said.

“Are you suggesting I have nothing at all?” She asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Now that’s you twisting my words around,” He said. “But yes, you have nothing at all.”

“You’re not wrong,” She admitted.

“Just as well,” Harry said.

“What do you mean?” Hermione inquired.

“You’re too good for the rest of us, anyway,” Harry said.

“Oh, great, thanks,” Hermione said, putting down her bottle. “God, I hope Luna drew something awful, like the dungeons.” Harry laughed heartily and lifted his bottle for the last bit of beer.

“Now you sound jealous again,” He said.

“If anything, I’m jealous of Ron,” She said. Harry pursed his lips, not quite sure what she meant. He decided not to harp on it and instead change the subject.

“All right then,” He said and got up. “Where do you start making a mess?” He asked. “We could re-sort all the books or something. Madame Pince’ll lose it if she can’t find anything anymore. She’d spend all summer clearing that up.”

“Yes, we could do that,” Hermione said, eyes travelling over the nearest bookcases. “I’m just not sure I want my last image of this place be… you know, chaos.”

“We’re still here for another _week_ ,” Harry said. “It’s not going to be your last image, not by a long shot.” She rolled her eyes and got up to join him at the book case.

“You do realize this place saved your life a lot these past few years?”

“… no,” Harry corrected. “You’ve saved my life a lot.”

“Oh, really,” She said, chuckling as she reached past him for some book. He got a whiff of her shampoo, like he had in the nook behind the statue and dared breathing it in for a long second, hoping his moment of indulgence wasn’t to be followed with another knee to his crotch. “I do believe a particular page from this book singlehandedly saved your neck some six years ago." He glanced at the book she’d procured, watching as she flipped pages until she reached one that had evidently been torn out. The book was old and tattered and Harry had no idea what she was talking about.

“Six years ago?” He asked. “What are you talking about?”

“I defile a library book for you and you don’t remember?” Hermione asked. “Thirteen-year-old me would be crushed.”

“You ripped out the page?” Harry asked. “Oh!” It had come back to him. “The basilisk tip-off!”

“Precisely,” She said.

“That wasn’t the library, that was your brilliant head saving my neck. Pipes, anyone?” She shrugged and reached past him yet again. Harry watched her hand carefully replace the old book, aligning it perfectly with the rest of the tomes, fingers smoothing gently over the leather.

“I have fond memories of all the ones I read in here,” Hermione said. “Madame Pince is a batty old crow, but we do have one thing in common.”

“Putting them different places doesn’t destroy them, Hermione,” He said. “But we can just go back if you want.” She didn’t look happy about that either. “Now what?”

“We’ll be losing the game,” She said. “I don’t like losing.”

“There is no winning with you,” He said with a chuckle. “So what do you suggest?” She looked up at him, her brown eyes glittering with something he couldn’t define. She was close – so close. He couldn’t remember when exactly things had changed between them or why, he just knew that a year ago, he wouldn’t have felt this way about her being so close.

“It’s no wonder I kicked you earlier,” She said quietly.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You’re making yourself a target.” Harry didn’t need to check to know the bulge in his trousers was noticeable, but she didn’t seem the least bit angry or revolted, so he opted for a cheeky reply.

“Sincerest apologies,” He with a crooked grin. “I might be a little drunk.”

“Is that all it is?” She asked.

“Uh?”

“You’re sure you’re all right? Everything’s working as intended?”

“Very much so,” Harry said, his throat a little dry all of a sudden.

“Maybe we should check.”

“… got a book for that?” He asked.

“I think we’ll manage without,” She said, hands suddenly curling around the flaps of his open robes. She rose on her tiptoes and brought her lips to his. She lingered for a moment, then drew back, watching his reaction. They shared a small smile and for their second kiss, Harry leaned in, bringing his hands up to cup her face and pull her in.


End file.
